


As the Lotus Wilts

by Medikitty



Category: Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate History, Angst, Drama & Romance, M/M, Memory Loss, Mental Instability, Shura Ending, edgy Gen per usual, filling in the gaps of the lore here, forgotten affairs, light fluff, of japan that is, rated M for smut in chapt 2, some underage after chapt 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-09-26
Packaged: 2020-03-26 09:47:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19003297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medikitty/pseuds/Medikitty
Summary: Based after the initial fight with Genichiro. Before seeking out Lord Isshin, Wolf slips out at night to confront Genichiro regarding what caused him to succumb to the ultimate fate. The shinobi was familiar to the term Shura, but what led the great leader to admit the ultimate internal defeat right there o the rooftop?In turn, he discovers there's more to himself he needs to uncover before he can unveil the lord's secrets.Rated M for chapter 2.





	1. Familiarity

**Author's Note:**

> Lots of research is being thrown into this tale. Going through the game a second time, reading everything including the history of the Sengoku period on Shinobis and Sumarai.
> 
> But my major curiosity to write it was how much Wolf does not remember, so im set to untangle that in my own way.

The decaying Estate of Ashina was silent, only the dismal sound of rain echoed through the empty halls. Thunder rumbled mournfully nearby that only seemed fitting to all that had taken place. The young heir carefully concealed it well, but it was noticeable he had been affected, having witnessed the mental erosion of Lord Genichiro.

 

A devoted servant to Ashina's vast lands the lord was. She caressed and nurtured him since he was an abandoned cub, an orphan from her bloodied battlefields. She was his mother, and he— her loyal son. The devotion and hunger to defend her lands arose a mere peasant into a mighty general. A Leader with a narrow line of sight, but one that could be looked upon as noble.

 

A shinobi remained hidden behind the painted mural wall, away from Emma and hidden from the divine heir, but close enough to listen keenly. His kind lord buried himself in texts trying to distract his troubled mind as he muttered in inquest of Genichiro's downfall— questioning if he himself could have done differently to evade the tragic outcome. _‘No’_ Wolf answered grimly in his thoughts to Kuro's reflections. His own mind was confounded, hoping that hearing the young lords voice, his logic would soothe him. There was an odd sensation in his chest— tight. Discovering those blazing scarlet eyes against a thunderous sky. Somewhere in his memories, the one’s suppressed to focus on achieving his master's tasks at any cost.

 

He recalled what it indicated, to have such mercilessness in one's own soul. It was mentioned before by Isshin through sake filled conversations and rat renegades, as well as the research materials he would find for his lord. It was the sign of succumbing to the failure of achieving one's desires he remembered one particular note said. The ultimate defeat with the cost of one's mind.

 

_'What was the ultimate defeat? Was it the refusal for a rejuvenation that wasn't corrupted? Perhaps the many faces of rejection to attempt winning a losing battle for Ashina? Or was it...'_

 

Those words, the only few words expressed directly to him pulsated in his head like a migraine that couldn't be soothed but endured. Those solemn thoughtful words that were out of earshot of Emma and the Divine heir.

 

He stood quietly, making his way out of his hidden cove to approach the young medic of Lord Isshin.

 

**"Ah, Wolf. What is it?"**

 

Her soft eyes looked clouded, conflicted almost. She put it behind herself as the shinobi approached, voice gentle as always.

 

**"May you look after Lord Kuro in my absence?"**

 

**"Off to look for Lord Iishin, I suppose?"**

 

There was stillness between them, his dark umber eyes flickering with a golden glow of his night sights. They were like stone— Unwavering to provide her an answer. She gave the faintest of smirks before bowing **"Certainly, shinobi of the divine heir. We will await your return."**

 

 **"...mmn"** He grunted as a form of gratitude accompanied by a curt nod. Whisking away through the window, the shinobi shivered to the downpour. He had a notion as to why the rain came down so heavily when only just this morning it felt of delicate spring. Looking to the rolling clouds and strikes of light illuminating the night, he set out to locate his target.

 

**~~~~~~~~~~~**

  


**"For a shinobi, your emotions deceive your work. I could sense your footing easily."**

 

On combative instinct, Wolf grasped the hilt of his katana to the deep, ominous voice coming from the dark of the crumbling building. The skies had led him here, recalling Emma bumbling over sake about the past. She seemed almost nostalgic, reminiscing on how she knew where Genichiro was when he embarked on his intensive training by looking wistfully for the spirals in the sky. Unexpectedly with his night sight, the rain caused his line of vision to become bleary, despite his sight being heightened.

An elongated  time of silence stagnated the air before he invited himself in through the hole in the wall.

 

Upon entering the room there was a swift movement he could barely make out. A silhouette making it's way up to him with swift martial movements. A rushing roundhouse kick. Readying himself with a pivot of position, the wolf made a lunge forward before stepping down hard onto the attacking foot. The perfected mikiri counter undoubtedly had him looking up to glistening red pupils. The breath of an amused chuckle puffed against him as the relentless rain chilled the air in the dingy room.

 

**"Ōkami."**

 

He froze in place to hear his name rolling off Genichiro's tongue like liquid gold. Subconsciously, his body shivered in reaction as though his physical self was drawn to the taller man's voice. Somewhere within him stirred a distinct recognition but his understanding couldn't place how or where. The other man must have noticed, illuminating eyes half-lidding as they loomed over the Shinobi.

 

 **"You never were one for words, not even for me. Not that it matters when—"** Genichiro began before stepping back observingly as the shinobi stumbled slightly.

 

**"—action always spoke so much louder with you."**

 

Wolf regained his posture, that tightening feeling inevitably returning while he remained voiceless.

 

 **"I don't presume you are here to collect lost memories?"** His mode of expression transitioned from pleasant teasing to a dull, almost somber murmur.

 

The Shinobi's suspicious eyes blinked, lips pursing slightly to the absent assumption. A brow arched on the lord's face.

 

_‘Perhaps then…’_

 

 **"I— Your eyes. I have seen those eyes before. Why?"** Wolf finally spoke, earnestly trying to push his own personal intentions away. He had a task, to gather all the valuable information he could and not to fail his lord. ' _Not again_.'

 

**"They were in forsaken creatures. Nothing more in them but a maddening fire to the loss of their deepest desires"**

 

Genichiro promptly turned to avoid giving away any of his personal meditations. Drifting over to an open window, he gazed lifelessly at the downpour. The shinobi pressed onwards, **"This was the first time, was it not?"**

 

 _'Always clever. Sharp as the fangs he bares'_ he thought. A hollow sigh escaped him and for once his renown confidence hid itself away. His battered body was still recovering from the rejuvenation after his fatal decisions turned to channel his last resort. Particularly when cornered did he find himself dealing blows out of the lighting, only to be dealt with a double-edged sword.

 

**"You wish to know my greatest failure? My admit to defeat?"**

**"Yes."**

**"I suppose I could entertain your inquiries if, in turn, I dispose of my own curiosities"** The Lord of Ashina quipped after a drawn out silence.

 

A subdued hum resonated from the shinobi's throat. The taller man finally turned to face him, the glow in his eyes seemed to have dimmed even if slightly. With a slow pace, he moved toward the wolf, the sound of his own katana clattering to the floor behind him. The smaller man tensed, gripping his hilt. It was to be expected from a wary stray. He didn't move though as the Ashina lord stood toe-to-toe with him. Instead, his gaze followed upward to the man's features, dark locks clinging to it from traveling in the rain previously. The scent of blood lingered between one another as their eyes wandered— one pair in proposal while the other in mystification.

 

**"I was informed the great shinobi of the divine heir had his memories taken unbeknownst to him by the dragons heritage."**

 

A scarred, blackened hand gently raised to graze its gentle fingers along the silver strands that ran along wolfs disheveled hair. There was a sense of satisfaction as the shinobi didn't flinch away but instead furrowed his brows together as if in speculation. He himself seemed rather surprised by his unusual lack of instinctive caution towards the intimate gesture.

 

**"Tragic really, but I produced a theory that perhaps..."**

 

His nimble fingers traced down behind the smaller man's ear, carefully tucking a few shiny strands behind as he leaned down. Nose to nose now Genichiro finished with a hushed,

 

**"...perhaps they were only lost in a fog."**

 

He witnessed as the golden canine-like irises danced around his visage as if searching for something desperately.

 

**"Did it never occur to you how we all are known to one another except you? Or how only memories focusing on your goal to protect your lord are the only ones that surface?"**

 

**"How do—"**

 

**"Your eyes. The look of a starving stray."**

 

**"...I see."**

 

The shinobi fell silent, casting his gaze away troubled. He heard this one too many times for it to be a coincidence. At first, the loss hadn't bothered him, not when his vision was narrowed into retrieving his lord and removing anything that stood in his path. Now that he was under his guard once more, his brain was capable to ease enough to the ones revolving around them. He would be foolish if he hadn't begun questioning it himself.

 

**"You wish to uncloud them."**

 

**"..."**

 

**"Ōkami.. Look at me."**

 

The moment his head swerved the entirety of his being went rigged as soft yet purposeful lips caught his own. A strong hand had him gripped by the nape like a pup, forcibly holding him in place. The first distinct reaction was instantly to fight or flight, however, he was inevitably betrayed by his own person who refused to move.

 

This wasn't the first time; he experienced this before. The prolonged strain on his heart shattered into rapid thuds against his chest. Genichiro drew his face away to read the Wolfs, meticulously studying the conflicting expressions flashing across his prominent features. He expected no reciprocation...at least not yet.

 

**"I will ask once more, will you entertain my curiosity in exchange for the information you seek?"**


	2. Muscle Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Sake of Ashina they bang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize this took so long. I had to comb over so many things in the lore and new terminology that I wanted to make sure everything Sewed together well. End notes clear my headcanons a bit.

Amber eyes looked for his options, but all he observed were dimly lit pupils observing him. The samurai was reading him like a book and at this point, the shinobi couldn't veil his raw musings. Everything felt so familiar, intimate almost. It wasn't the same man atop the roof before, this was the noble Lord—the one he's only encountered to defend his lord...right?

  
  
  


"Your lordship, I accept your offer in turn for my request" Wolf responded, eyes unwavering. A hint of uncertainty was evident in his mellow tone, acting as though his mouth was moving without conscious thought. He had to remind himself that this was for the Divine heir and nothing more. _Obey the Iron code._ _To possess selfishness in a time like this? Imprecation_. A meager smirk tugged at the taller man's eloquent lips and the shinobi had to divert his gaze. An unusual warmth crept onto his features from the predicament he stepped into.

 

Genichiro seemed taken aback for a moment, an expression of mild surprise was evident in response. To find the fierce wolf submitting so easily—it was wondrous. Just how much of this wounded man is lost within himself? Mused the taller man, positive the shinobi he knew would have never been as careless. Giving the smaller man a brisk nod, he moved toward a fastened door.   
  


"Let us shelter from this weather; it makes my body ache."   
  
  


Sliding it open, Genichiro entered without glancing back to see if Wolf would follow. He knew he would; a stray always follows. The room itself was illuminated by a few used candles off in a corner. Tatami mats were scattered across the floor along with wayward belongings of a time not too long ago. Wolf eased a little, lifting his hand off the grip of his hilt to absorb the warmth in the room. Admittedly, it was more convenient than the desolate room leaking in rainwater just outside. The glow of the candles allowed him to capture a more thorough look of the great Lord Genichiro.

 

Damp attire from the violent storm draped around his ample hips, a kimono folding over the plated belt of his armor and hakama. Venturing to trail his observations higher up the shinobi noted the man's arms, plagued with warped darkened skin. It was the branding of the heretical arts he had mastered long ago. Thick and thin scarring flowed up his muscled arms like a map of majestic rivers, a few of them oozing of blood from recent wounds being reopened. An involuntary shiver escaped him, imagining the affliction every bolt that coursed through the man's being must feel like. 

  
  


"They don't cause as much pain as they used to. As of recent, I fear if anything the feeling is numb."

  
  


The shinobi jumped to the shattered silence, unaware of just how long he had been staring thoughtfully. On instinct, he rummaged in his pockets for the herbal powders he carried and some spare cloth. He undertook the responsibility to tend to the wounds for his own lord, even over minuscule scrapes. The wolf's protective instincts kicked in like second nature toward the wounded now, ever since his perception of others proceeded to be almost subconscious.

 

Wolf hesitantly made light steps toward the other who had decided to sit upon one of the tatamis, kneeled as his royal upbringing taught him. The Lord tilted his head when the notable presence of the shinobi stood next to him, a small pouch in his hand. When his counterpart knelt beside him, Genichiro lowered his head again. Matted charcoal strands concealed his face— draping around his visage. There was a gritty sound of aging leather being unwound and opened filling his curious ears. A faint hiss sounded as two fingers ever so carefully ran down one of the opened scars. It stung, sensing the remedies of what he assumed was dosing power being blotted along the lightning tendrils.

  
  


"You are aware—" 

 

Wolf cut him off sternly, "Resurrection will not cleanse you of ailments, even then...whatever you have achieved seems to be impeding any rejuvenation for the moment. Or perhaps it is delayed in reaction."

  
He wasn't altogether certain why he was explaining this to the corrupted soul, assuming it has to do with consuming the sediment of the waters itself. However, as he dappled the powder throughout the scorching burns he felt at ease, as yet he did this every night for the Lord of Ashina. The skin he cleaned along with calloused fingers felt natural— _intimate_.

  
  
  


"Must yo—...rather, allow me to rephrase—" Genichiro uttered, hesitant to disturb the gentle patters of the calming rain against the roof.  "You feel impelled to do this, do you not? What if I told you this was habitual? Not only in concern to your Divine heir."

 

"What...?"   
  


 

A smirk toyed at the taller man's lips, raising his head up and allowing Wolf a genuine glance. For an instant the shinobi envied him. He possessed the key to unlocking his memories—at least some and instead the samurai decided to dangle it over his head like a treat.

 

"I see." The shinobi mumbled as he continued dismissively to swathe the injuries, subconsciously scooting closer to better contact the more challenging ones. He could smell a gentle hint of spider lilies from the samurai, merely hidden amongst the metallic tinge of blood. The Wolf decided it was fitting in a poetic sort of way. The floral aroma slackened his pace and rather placed him in deep reflection. He became overfond of it, as though his mind was more than accustomed to the unmistakable scent despite his own lacking memory.   
  


 

"Lilies."   
  


"Oh? You recall perchance?"   
  


"..."

  
  


Leaning in, stippling the powder onto Genichiro's chest, he uttered "Perhaps...it's familiar. Comfort maybe..."

  
  
  


Eyes of scarlet dimmed to dark maroon and at a glance, they almost seemed normal, not maddening with depravity. They softened to Wolf's words, a hand instinctively moving towards the rugged face that was escaping his gaze. A thumb traced a scruffy cheek gently and the shinobis brows furrowed more. A tint of pink bubbled up to the harsh cheekbones on his features. The experienced hand medicating the extensive wounds on the Ashina lord wavered before wandering off its raw trail to landscapes that didn't need tending. The two digits traced down and along every carved muscle, stopping here and there to brush along the healed concave lesions. Each scar, pore, and follicle called out to him in his mind; the closest to the sensation of home he'd felt in a long time.

  
  


Genichiro allowed him to freely roam without uttering a word, eyeing the wheels turning in the smaller man's subconscious knowingly. 

  
  


"Ōkami."   
  


"I did not save you only to have lost you, not like this." the Lord said in a hushed tone, grasping the shinobis forearm with the prosthetic as if in emphasis. The wolf's head shot up abruptly with widened eyes boring into Genichiro's. His lower lip quivered slightly, undoubtedly perceiving the look the Lord communicated to him. Pools of desperation, pleading for an understanding.

  
  
  


It inspired a feeling of clarity that was materializing within himself without the need of Buddha's aid. His prosthetic arm ached as though the flesh and bone were still intact. Hesitantly he raised up high enough from kneeling until he was level with Genichiro's face. His chest thudded like the thunder that boomed out in the distance. He didn't wait for an invitation, let alone permission as he canted his body forward and seized dominance of the other's lips. They were tender despite the split bottom lip from when he landed a blow on the Samurai. To tell the truth, He didn't mind the taste of metal that intermingled while their tongues danced for control. Broad arms winded around him possessively, dragging him close until he straddled the larger man's lap. Their chests flush and his own arms clasping tightly around Genichiro's neck, the shinobi became attune that it was hard for him to stop. Like muscle memory, his body seamlessly moved and reacted instinctively on its own to the groping hands and bruising kisses.

  
  
  


The samurai remembered every curve, every touch and every position to make the shinobi squirm to his yearning touch. For the first time in at least three years perhaps, even more, he felt at leisure. The radiating heat between them becoming nostalgic. His idle hand placed itself firmly on the wolves lower back, the other ventured round to run its digits along the waistband of his counterpart.

  
  
  


"Shall I render you defenseless, shinobi?" he spoke breathily, tugging at the katanas belt. The shinobi paused and pulled away enough to look at Lord Genichiro's face. His face was reddened, and his sharp eyes were steady. The illuminating pupils of fire weren't transparent, instead, he stared into what resembled human irises— only a glimmer of maroon glistened against the candlelight is one looked hard enough.

  
  
  


"Mmn." wolf finally grunted with a curt nod. His arms loosened and busied themselves by lazily combing through the samurai's hair curiously. Dark charcoal locks accented with silver minuscule tresses close to his temples seeped through his fingers. There was a dull thud next to them and his attire promptly loosening now that it was free from the belts restraints. Satisfying no mind to the commotion, he raised his prosthetic hand up to his own hair. With a careful tug, the unkempt ponytail was released and dark umber tinted hair cascaded down—hiding the snowy white streaks of the dragons marking.

 

Using the ribbon, he gently gathered the taller man's hair back, raking a hand through it a final time before tying it up smoothly. Leaning back a tad, Wolf contemplated his work with enigmatic eyes. Not admitting it out loud, he rather preferred the Lords' hair pulled up. The loose strands of escaping hair gently caressing his more chiseled features softened the ferocity on Genichiro's resting expression. 

 

 "Some things never change, even when forgotten." There was a chuckle in the taller man's tone, an endearing comment almost.

 

"Hm?"

 

 

Slouching down into Genichiro's lap once more he tilted his head, intrigued. The lord carefully plucked at the ties of the chainmail underneath the shinobis kimono before looking up into the glowing yellow pupils. Unbinding the last string, Genichiro simpered before advancing his hand to capture Wolf's face, hauling him in for another fiery kiss. Some things were better left unexplained. _'it'll come back'_ he told himself. The shinobi didn't linger on it, instead, he melted into Genichiro and his fondlings. Nimble fingers snuck underneath his clothing, exposing his own scarred chest. They scoped out his torso eagerly, charting their way and grazing spots the wolf had no idea affected him. A breath was caught in his throat when a gentle thumb scraped along the dips of his waist. A shiver ran through his bones in jolting arousal.

 

 

 Shakily the shinobi tore away from the kiss, panting to regain his breath. The overstimulating sensations lowered his guard enough for the Samurai to unexpectedly lunge forward, immobilizing him against the mat. Genichiro beamed down at him with a victorious glimmer in his eyes before leaning down to kiss at the shinobis exposed, muscular neck. Reluctantly Wolf let out a guttural groan, his head tilting instinctively to the side for the lord to have better access. He could feel the taller man delicately shift and move into a more compromising position. Settling down in between his legs that in turn loosely draped over the taller man's thighs as Genichiro sat up.

 

 They stared at each other fixated, the only sound was heavy breaths and the gentle rain outside. Never leaving the wolf's attentive sights, Genichiro moved his hands to his own ample hips. String by string and clasp by clasp did he voluntarily remove his lower armor. Genuine leather plating clattered to the floor around them, the kimono that hung over it fell once the last plate was removed. All that remained were the ragged pair of hakama's.

 

 

 

Wolf bit his lip, his face warm and body aching from the loss of contact. He craved for it, even if his memory refused to reveal why. Willingly he would submit as he scooted downward, legs hooking loosely around the Samurais' waist. He could tell the lord was holding back, savoring the pleasant intimacy, a single brow raised in light surprise feeling the shinobi push against his pelvis.

 

 

"Patience Ōkami. Did master Owl not teach you any manners?"

 

Eyes like daggers flicked up at him and the shinobis legs suddenly constricted around his hips testily. Genichiro only provided a devious smile, eyes half-lidding under a wicked gaze.

 

"Apparently not." He answered himself duly.

 

Leaning over to one of the discarded piles of divine armor, the taller man took up rummaging through his quiver of arrows until he removed a vial. The vial's contents were a brilliant shade of amber. Rounding back down to the shinobi, the Samurai nipped along his collarbone, a free hand untying the Knots in the hakama his counterpart traditionally wore. He undoubtedly heard a stifled gasp and looked up cooing, "Just like when we were still training, I see."

 

 

Grasping a hand around the hardened length, the Samurai delivered sudden constricting squeeze. Wolf's back arched off the tatami, arms flinging up over his head to sink his nails into something— anything he could grasp desperately. A lush hum rumbled with pleasure from Genichiro's throat to seeing his shinobi in such a tousled state again. He couldn't help but have a tinge of relief seeing how enthusiastic Wolf's body curved up into his hand; how much those umber eyes deceived his general stoic demeanor. It was _invigorating_.

 

 

 "Lo- mmn..! Genichiro." Wolf stammered, his tone husky amidst heavy exhales. A praised sound of acknowledgment was perceived and then without warning, he was rolled over on his stomach. His hazy memories cleared with every grasp, every kiss and every promised word the Samurai seared into his flesh. Genichiro ran a lightning-scarred hand along wolfs side, stopping right on his waist. Fingers curling inwards, the large hand gave a slight tug as instruction. Wolf willingly obeyed, rising off the ground until he was on all fours, the scent of sweat rising up from the tatami where he previously lay. The shinobi felt two massive hands sneak under his jackets and kimono, splayed heat warming his lower back. Gradually they scaled upwards, soothing almost as they scaped along his skin. A whimpered sigh escaped him as they reached his shoulder blades, attire all scrunched— back exposed.

 

 

The breaths length of tranquility ceased as one graceful hand suddenly vanished whilst the other positioned itself in-between the toned shoulder blades. All at once by the brute force on his back, the shinobi collapsed onto his forearms as he stiffened to his trousers being jerked down. Caught off guard, he craned his head around to glower over his shoulder at the Lord general.  Genichiro merely gnawed his lower lip, a firm look was shadowed with a predatory essence. Inching forward until he was flush against Wolf, his member more than prominent now prodded and pressed between the bare cheeks displayed before him.

 

"Stay."

 

In stress the hand between his blades sunk its nails into flesh, making the shinobi grunt through gritted teeth. His head swayed and rested on his forearms, fevered. The vial opened and suddenly the private room was filled with the distinct aroma of cloves. It was a smell he recognized to clean blades, he himself contained some also. However In this position, with that lingering fragrance, it brought back a burning sensation in his abdomen— _remembering_. All warmth seemed to rush down into the already growing erection.

  
  
  


"It's been such a long time Ōkami, do accept my apologies for the impatience."

  
  
  


"Lord...?—"

  
  


Wolf gasped as if he were drowning, his flushed face burying into his forearms to the intrusion he inevitably felt. A slicked finger penetrated the puckered hole; it stung from oil as the slick substance commenced with its purpose. The tightened muscles slowly relaxing, essentially numbing while the finger worked itself exploring the warm cavern. Feeling adjusted after a few swirls and pumps he dared do venture, pushing back into the penetration readily.

  
  
  


A second nimble finger inserted itself without warning that had the shinobi's head suddenly shooting up with a frenzied moan spilling out between clenched teeth, a prickle at the corners of his eyes.

  
  
  


"It's futile to hold back. It's only us, not even patrol stray here. Besides...you've been far too quiet for someone whose memories are reawakening."

  
  
  


"...!!?"

  
  
  


"Your eyes always deceive you."

  
  
  


Genichiro expanded him, index and middle fingers twirling and pulling apart. Bending over the shorter man, he placed lightly feathered pecks along the crook of his neck that was exposed. He could feel the tremors quaking through the shinobi. Nostalgia washed over him in reaction, wanting nothing more than to ram his counterparts face into the mat; thrusting within him— just like old times when the shinobi purposely landed a sneak attack from the exposed rafters of the Ashina dojo as a means to startle him.  Alternatively, the Lord waited. He displayed manners, even if his urgent desires were far from noble. In spite of appearance, he desperately wanted to relish this— their borrowed time together before…

  
  


"A-ah! My— Lord!" Wolf shouted out following a gasping breath, his nails audibly raking against the mat.

  
  


Genichiro froze, seemingly startled in place—including his digits. He was dumbstruck, his lack of activity didn't occur to him until he undoubtedly felt the shinobi rock backward demandingly. His inserted fingers brushed a sensitive spot inside the smaller man that sent his agile body into sudden tremors.

  
  
  


"Heresy," the samurai growled under his ragged breath before wrenching his digits out only to harshly spit into the very same hand in contempt. Wolf lifted his disheveled head from his forearms as it came to mind what had slipped out. The scathing words of the Lord during their terrible battle rang furiously through his conscious— _Those same conflicting words that brought him here._

  
He coveted reason, perhaps they represented something in the past he was only just altogether seeing through a foggy vision. An image that was seen by the Lord that emitted a vexatious aura.

  
  
  


Before the shinobi could react, his entire went rigid to the unprepared penetration. Golden eyes fastened shut, despite the oil he nonetheless managed to feel a searing pain. His exposed chest was pressed down violently, a damaged hand clenching at the nape of his neck like scorning a pup. The other instantly grasped a protruding hip to ensure Wolf was hoisted as tall as his thighs would allow. He could feel heated skin press against his back, the intrusive thrusts panning out into a steady rhythm. The shinobis head collapsed onto his forearms once more— panting earnestly.

  
  
  


"It matters not who you serve Ōkami..." Genichiro groaned breathily, the impatient hand clinging onto the boned hip shifted, wrapping around the waist until it seized the aching hardness between Wolf's legs. A thumb brushed along the dribbling tip, the shinobis legs trembling below him with a muffled mewl of rapture. The hand at his scruff lifted merely to tangle into his peppered locks. Wolf's head was pried upwards as he felt the other lean into him, the Samurais breath teasing at his ear as said heatedly,

  
  
  


"...you will always be my shinobi."

  
  
  


The lord felt the writhing body below him quiver in ecstasy and in generous praise, Genichiro presented Wolf with a tender nibble to the earlobe, a weak growl erupted from the other in response.

 

  
Genichiro smirked to himself in amusement, _even submissive the unshaken shinobi will still bare his fangs_. He gave him a drawn-out stroke, extending his fingers down to the shaft before squeezing and making it's way back up to the leaking head. Wolf reacted instantly as he squirmed and contorted, hips thrusting into the pleasing hand only to have his insides plowed right after. It willed him into a haze of urgency, the delicious heat in his stomach working dangerously to reach its peak. Biting his lip, he tried his best to stifle his wanton sounds of euphoria, afraid of what other spoken expressions may slip off his tongue. He wanted to defy his own words, swear to the man above him if it meant he could feel alive, and as free as he did currently.

 

"Ōkami..." the lord purred into his ear, his thrusting increasingly becoming erratic.

  
  
  


"Why must you silence yourself?"

  
  
  


He released the hand pumping the shinobis pulsating erection and ensnared it into the silvered and ebony hair. With a yank, he urged the shinobi to twist his head and look at him. The illuminating wolf pupils appeared to tint into an orange hue with flecks of red...as if— _no_ , the Samurai dismissed promptly, eyes narrowing. _I stopped that—that possibility. I withdrew him from that fate!_

 

  
Distracting his dreadful thoughts, he tilted his head to capture the smaller man's sensuous lips, tasting iron from the feeble attempts to conceal his breathless whimpers. With a pivot of his hips, Genichiro relentlessly advanced into him, gyrating just enough to coax the usually stoic man beneath him to exhaling his name between hungry kisses.

 

  
It wasn't long before he felt Wolf tense. Constricting his muscles subconsciously around Genichiro, ripping himself away as he convulsed beneath him. The unexpected peak had the Samurai himself brimming over the edge and with a few more squeezed thrusts. In the stimulating fragments of time, he found himself biting down on the shinobis shoulder, climaxing violently, teeth sinking into rosy flesh as he released a loud curse.

  
  
  


There was a content silence; only labored breathing shattered the air. Shakily he pulled out and collapsed next to Wolf, chest heaving and enraptured eyes shut as he lingered in the aftermath of their shared bliss. The shinobi only turned his head to face Genichiro, his eyes shadowed by heavy lashes as he regulated his breathing.

  
  
  


"Ōkami."

  
  
  


"Hm?..."

  
  
  


"Will you truly not answer to another lord?"

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red Eyes Headcanon:
> 
> So the whole red-eye ordeal is pieced together by the descriptions of the Red lump, Red-eyed Carp, Doujun's conversations of his experiments and questline as well as the description of creature/individuals who have red eyes. Also the fact the Deamon of Hatred ends up with red eyes and Isshins explanation of Shura. 
> 
> "Those with Red Eyes are dangerous and filled a with rage that is difficult to control through the power of man alone. They do, however, fear the flame above all else."'
> 
> "Red Eyed Carp are considered incomplete creatures, Carp with only eyes that are red cannot become “masters”."
> 
> So I believe Red eyes are not only an after effect of those whom have consumed some form of the rejuvenating waters but ALSO who are consumed by a sense of failure/incompletion/defeat that turns into an endless rage causing their eyes to glow. Thanks to The experimentations of Dousaku it's noticed that despite being experimented on, the person you send to him will not have red eyes until after you receive the bloodstained letter. 
> 
> Thinks makes me follow that it's based on how much of the madness of their misfit circumstances has consumed them determines the glow intensity until they are too far gone to come back from madness.
> 
> ~~Why Red Spider Lily for Geni? 
> 
> They were common and Legend has it that the scent of these flowers bring back all the beautiful memories of the dead for one last time, before they disappear when they cross the Forgotten River. In Hanakotoba (the Japanese language of flowers) they symbolize loss, longing, abandonment and lost memories.~~


	3. Anamnesis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He understood the difference excruciatingly well, between the memories he could recall swirling in his mind and the fractured, but familiar, feelings that buried themselves deep within the shinobis breast. It was easy to identify which hit his senses first; however it didn’t dull the pain he would ultimately feel when confronting either of them head-on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to apologize for how long this took to post. I really struggled with how to process the Shura symptoms and a Shura inspired story and hope this plays it's part. 
> 
> Please comment and leave feedback :)

The question laid thick into the air around them. The shinobi did not answer, knowing at present his own heart could betray his loyalty to the young heir he was sworn to. Before this— before the confrontation on Ashinas watchtower, he could have answered without hesitation. His loyalty was priceless and after trudging through the depths of multiple battles to retrieve his Lord, it was simply out of the question.

 

However, as he lay now, propping up on his elbows next to the scantily dressed Lord of Ashina?

 

"What drives you to serve him so?" Rolled out another question, shattering the dull silence Wolf had befallen onto them. Each word dripped with a lethal poison in the tone the samurai carried. He had to look away, nails scraping against the mangled mat under him to busy himself from the pressure the Lord had placed on him.

 

Genichiro's eyes dimly luminated as he stared up at the ceiling. It felt as though he were talking to himself more so than with another. The silence used to be a comfort, tranquility in his youth with the Shinobi. Indeed, in the quiet, they contained their own wordless language. A single touch, even a subtle change in expression could be an entire conversation. These days, the air became a chokehold, causing every word to become an exerted effort to communicate with the other.

 

He understood the difference excruciatingly well, between the memories he could recall swirling in his mind and the fractured, but familiar, feelings that buried themselves deep within the shinobis breast. It was easy to identify which hit his senses first; however it didn’t dull the pain he would ultimately feel when confronting either of them head-on.

 

  


A thought danced around his head lightly, _what drove the Shinobi back after so long, after..._

 

Gradually the lords head turned to stare at the one in question studiously. The wolf remained mute and stoic, fingers still fidgeting as he avoided the heavy eyes weighing him. There was an agitation in the pit of Genichiro's stomach, the Wolf he knew wouldn't coil into himself. He spoke truth to his words and stood with confidence to them. This...this was cowardice!

 

"If you refuse my curiosity, you know I can not abide by your own, Ōkami ."

 

"...you should know..." Wolf answered calmly before he was interjected with a sharp tongue.

 

"The Iron code? Don't you play that token on me, I am no fool. Not towards you."

 

The Lord sat up, eyes gleaming with an undertone of brilliant scarlet. Leaning in so he was nose to nose to the shinobi, a snarl curled at his lips as he muttered coldly, "There was a time you would eagerly roll over on your back like the mutt you are for me. No matter your duties."

 

Golden eyes shot up and narrowed, there was a cruel twist in his gut. The words had a sensation of poison to a wound, however, as he glared at the man's features before him— it was a provocation. The Samurais' eyes were glassy, scowling brows furrowed with a pained expression that deceived his manner.

 

"Lord Genich—"

  


"I am not finished!" Genichiro growled menacingly, lurching forward unexpectedly to pin the shinobi to the floor. A hand clutched around his exposed throat and a knee pressured deep into his lungs.

 

"Three years of desertion, what occurred that made you come back when Ashina began to lose her hold on her lands?"

 

"..."

 

Wolf closed his fierce eyes deliberately, the hoarse words dragging out of his suffocating breaths as Genichiro pressed harder the longer he remained silent. "A letter...rather an order."

 

"Thence someone had their sights on you the entire time..." Genichiro speculated with a prickly tone.

 

"I don't know how long but...I am certain they had a notion..." Wolf trailed off, he hadn't thought of it until now. It didn’t seem to matter until now, he had a singular objective and that was all he cared for. Any other musings or feelings had been suppressed, lost, or conditioned out of him...except for when it came to Genichiro.

 

"Who?"

 

"Lord Isshin, with Emma's obedience."

 

The relentless grip on his neck loosened as a low dangerous snigger emitted from the lord's throat.

 

"Of course he would..."

 

He cocked his head just so. Loose tendrils of disheveled hair tumbling in his face, "so a letter is what bore life into you. Brought you back to a forgotten sense of self, is that all it takes with you shinobis?"

 

Wolf averted his eyes, cheeks flushing furiously to how simple-minded it seemed when put into words. "My only lead was that note...I do what I must to achieve my duties."

 

He refused to glance back up, piecing together what was undoubtedly streaming through Genichiro's cunning mind. Instead with a harsh shove he pushed Genichiro upwards and off his throat. Shinobi's were trained to sit and stay until their master commanded otherwise. It was learned, shown and at times disciplined into his system. A form of selective manipulation. He recalled a memory, a tiny shard of Genichiro using that to his advantage before Owl assigned him to Kuro. Back when he obeyed the masters of his father as he trained.  

 

The Samurai looked down with a sneer, his pupils gleaming in crimson. Standing up, he tied the hakamas back in place, no longer facing the shinobi. A storm raged inside him, the passive curt answers only made it worse.

 

"I believe I have entertained you enough." A rumble declared from behind him. Wolf stood, glaring at the Ashina Lord expectantly. Looking over his shoulder, Genichiro cast the shinobi a lopsided smirk.

 

"Ōkami, you could never entertain me enough to sate my desires."

 

"However, I do not go against my word." He finished flatly, pivoting to advance on the shorter man until he stood mere inches away. His shadow loomed over the wolf like a possessive entity, his sore hand lifting to trace a thumb along the stubbled jawline.

 

"I feel you already know the answer...my shinobi."

 

The jaw he kept clenched as Wolf froze in place. The shinobi’s eyes uncovered the glisten of realization, like those two words rolling off the Samurais' tongue triggered something within him. He had heard those words before, many times in fact. Kuro— ever since he was little would fondly call to him as if cooing to a beloved pet. The pet name or sense of ownership never phased him as he was nothing more than to be subservient to his master. His discipline and his emotions were severed, per the code, nothing mattered accept obeying he who owned him as a Shinobi.

 

During this critical period he recalled hardly ever spotting Genichiro. Their chosen paths had strayed, as they anticipated with Genichiro ranking up in the military for Ashina and Wolf himself mastering his skills to further guard the young lord.

 

Presently, at this point in time, they stood in contrast as strangers or so Wolf originally thought. With those two words when reflected in Genichiro's low gravelled voice, he identified what he had neglected— what left him peering into red. The promise, the silly little oath they bestowed on one another, despite it being unorthodox to their echelons.

 

"I... I see." The shinobi uttered, brows knitting at the collecting water in the corners of his eyes. Rising onto the balls of his feet, chapped lips caught the samurais own flush pair.

 

Prior their unbounded affection was hungry, fierce, and prevailing. In this moment they were delicate, apologetic but most of all forlorn. It was brought to an end with a solemn silence, Genichiro gazing down at Wolf with a soft smile that mystified what ran through his head. He could see it, the tiniest flecks of Shura glinting against glassy eyes. The seductive glints of red before vanishing were unmistakable.

 

"Perhaps in our next life, we will be fated."

 

_'I have failed...you.'_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Fragments: Spider lily (Genichiro)
> 
> Thank you so much for feedback and support for this chapter I'd like to mention a song that really inspired me to convey what i did. 
> 
> Please listen to "Strangers do" by: Jonas Aden


	4. Spider Lily

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I can not help but wonder if this was what instigated this accursed emptiness in my chest. Mayhap it began long before the petals started to fall…’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay Disclaimers & terminology time!
> 
> There is slight SUPER slight implications of minor/minor interactions. It is nothing serious, kids being kids but I thought i'd add this before someone came through the internet to stab me. 
> 
> Notes: 
> 
> Bushido - The teachings of 'the way of the Samurai. 
> 
> Shudo - The principle of intimate bonding between a Master warrior and a young pupil. This is a VERY fascinating subject I think ANY Genichiro or hell Samurai fan should at least peek into. It really sets a stage of character for Geni and how that helped form him to the way we see him in-game. 
> 
> Wakashu - The younger Samurai in a Shudo mentorship.

    ‘The room feels frigid once more as if the Shinobi had taken the warmth when he voluntarily left.  I can only will myself to look out the window solemnly as the ominous void in my chest made itself apparent once more.  Ashina’s air smelt of ruin, smoke with the hint of searing flesh.   _So,  this is what she has come to..._  and yet somehow I can't help but push farther, deeper into the terrible abyss that left a feeling of hollowness where a soul ought to be.  If I can survive the turmoil this void throws at me then perhaps... perhaps a light will seep through a crack somewhere in this dark cavern I feel consumes me.   
  
    The sensation of it on the tips of my fingers, within my grasp even!  It was when we touched, his memories of what was, and what I yearned for.  That's precisely when this dreadful weight felt lifted off my shoulders...at that very moment admittedly I felt happy—   _truly_ happy. I wanted to capture it, embrace the raw feeling and never allow it to escape my clutches again.  The narrow victories and minor resolutions were relieving, certainly.  However, the exhilarating rush that washed over my being as Ōkami showed indications of recollection could not be rivaled.

  
  
    As Ashina continues to wilt to the defeat of every Samurai that stood in her glory I can not help but wonder if this was what instigated this accursed emptiness in my chest.  Mayhap it began long before the petals started to fall… ’

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

  
“What are you doing?”   
  
   The child looked no older than seven, dressed in a dark blue Kamino following up with a pale slate-colored kamishimo.  His hair was dark, long enough to just barely graze his shoulders.  He spoke curiously to a little girl who sat on a large boulder near the ancient Sakura tree.

  
  
“Writing, my lord.”  She responded idly, a hand lifting to tuck back a strand of brunette hair that had escaped the ties of her bun.  She glanced up and gave the boy a slight bow.  Inviting him over to survey her work she piped up, “If I am to help Master Dogen, there is much I have to learn. ”

  
  
“I see.”  The boy mused over at the scrolled parchment critically.  It consisted of small etchings of various leaves and berries;  next to each picture was a freshly written kanji to compare them to.  He offered a small hum and pointed to a specific one commenting knowingly,

  
  
“The strokes here—  and here are too short.  It needs to reach over this line or else this will not say rice. ” 

  
  
“Oh!...  I understand. ” She said earnestly before adjusting the lines and showing them to him for approval.“ Is this proper, Lord Genechiro? ”    
  
“Indeed.  It is. ” He responded with a firm nod before tilting his head to the side with a smirk, “ I told you to call me Genichiro, Emma!  I am no lord yet. ”    
  
“I-I know, but Master Dogen says it is polite to show all manner of respect to our lord's house.  Especially the son of our Lordship. ” 

  
  
“Hmmph, well Okami doesn’t,”  Genechiro argued with his has crossed over his chest.  Emma gave a disapproving frown, her glistening bright eyes narrowing to the individual mentioned.  She recalled the boy started appearing around the castle a year ago with Lord Isshin's loyal warrior and master shinobi Owl.  She had met him on a few occasions when her master was summoned for assistance.  The boy was her height, hair always ruffled and expression eerily calm.  He never articulated it appeared and if so it was quiet and curt.  It made learning difficult when Dogen allowed her to help tend wounds.   
  
His refusal to speak would drive her crazy.   _How is one supposed to know a man's pain tolerance if he shall not speak?_   
  
“He is a shinobi... they don’t follow rules... ” She grumbled, casting her eyes to her work.  Genechiro snickered at her response, “Shinobis have rules, they are warriors as much as I am!  Maybe you’re just jealous! ” 

  
  
Emma’s eyes shot up, her face flushed as she snapped, “I am not! ” 

  
  
“Are too!”

  
  
“Not!”

  
  
   A tug at the young lord's sleeve tore his attention away from the flustered girl who sat pouting on the rock.  Looking down he grinned at the slimmer boy of whom they argued about.  His hair choppy, swooping under his jawline as his bangs fell considerably into his face.  The clothes he wore were of commoners material, the dark kimono brown and his elbow-length haroi that was of a dusty sunset hue.  His forearms were wrapped in a cloth to act as braces.  He stood slightly behind Genechiro, eyes gazing up at him expectantly.   
  
“Ah!  Hello Okami, we were just talking about you! ” Genichiro piped up, a smug smile on his face.  Emma huffed, packing up her writing materials muttering under her breath.  “We were not…”

  
  
   The lord rolled his eyes dramatically before placing a hand on top of the young shinobis head teasingly.  “I can’t even leave you alone for a few days without you in disarray!  How are you to see an arrow coming at you with your hair blinding your sights?  Come, General Oniwa told me about different styles us warriors dress our hair.  We have to learn this if we are to become true Samurai! ”    
  
“He’s a Shinobi, my lord.”  Emma interrupted as she passed by the two boys, her materials wrapped in a cloth she carried.  Genechiro looked at her hard, 

 

“ my grandfather always says  **no matter the rank, nor the status; Any man who fights for Ashina is as noble and righteous as a Samurai!**  Making Shinobi a class of Samurai. ”

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

 _Now,  where is he..._the adolescent boy pondered, padding along the lasting hallways of the Ashina keep. He had only recently returned from a month occupied along the outskirts with the entrusted warrior monks to learn bushido; including the discipline and harmony, it invoked as well. Charcoal hair was sported in a pristine topknot, his kimono the dusty blue of the Ashina clan with silken lapels that glistened in gold. Passing nobles, the boy bowed curtly as he considered a final place his friend could be.  
    
   Halting in front of the sliding doors he carefully honed in his hearing in case a lesson was in session. When there wasn’t a sound to be heard, the boy opened the door cautiously with his head peeking in first.  
  


“Ōkami?  Are you here? ” 

  
  
**Silence**.

  
  
   Straightening himself, as any nobleman would who become the heir to a thriving city he walked in with purpose.  His retainers consistently spoke of the importance of poise and manners.  If he were to prove himself to Ashina and her kind generosity than he needed to master everything he could.  All to prepare for when she graced him with the honor to cradle her.   
  
   Halting in the middle of the dojo, nothing looked out of place and not a single sign of life stirred until—

  
  
   His keen hearing shot up to glare at the rafters, “Ōkami?... it’s me.  Genichiro. ”A shift a movement came from the shadows up high and then a glimpse of a russet haori.  After a moment, a boy of diminutive stature jumped down from the wooden rafters, his landing soft as a feather hitting the floor.  He wore the same attire of russets and browns, with accents of creams, Kind of like Lady butterfly but not as refined.   
  
  
   The slighter boy evaded the inquisitive look the young lord projected.  Wolf had always been quiet and solitary.  It was apparent those unique traits exclusively would make for a skilled shinobi.  Owl had chosen wisely.  With eager curiosity and willingness to ramble about who he was;  Genichiro didn’t think he wouldn't have established such a close bond to the stoic boy as they shared currently.

  
  
“Ōkami”  Genichiro said more firmly.  When there was no acknowledgment the young lord advance forward, gripping the smaller boys chin and turning it to face him.  His short temper was ready to crackle, correcting the shinobi student on his crude manners until their eyes met.   
  
   Even in the dimly lit dojo, he could see the tightly constricted pupils staring wide-eyed at him like he had witnessed a ghost.  The whites of the sclera were bloodshot and glassy.  Salty trails wept down his soft cheeks as a hushed snivel escaped him.  Cheeks were tinted in a timid embarrassment as he was forced to look at his friend—  his Lord.   
  
“W— What happened? Are you hurt?” The young lord demanded, a rush of uncertain worry taking hold of him. There was an urgency swelling in his chest, the need to help, to be a warrior of Ashina he promised he would be not merely for her— but for her people.  This was the first time he’d witnessed a raw, unconstrained emotion from his friend and that startled him to the point he had no idea what to do.  Contemplative eyes darted around the room as though looking for the appropriate answer, Genichiro stepped forward until they stood toe-to-toe.

  
  
   Extending his shaking hands ever so cautiously he sifted them through the disheveled fluff that was wolf's hair.  It was a pastime they shared together since they were kids.  A genuine comfort only they put together that bonded their friendship as well as their dreams of the duties they were to dutifully uphold.  The shorter boy trembled meekly, tiredly pressing his forehead into the lord's sternum.  The Adolescent boys remained like that for a while, soothing fingers scraping through his scalp seemed to ease the tension he had been coiling tightly into himself.   
  


   Genichiro, using a gold silken ribbon knotted Wolf’s hair back into a delicate bun, noticing his tactic worked.  Resting his hands onto the shinobis shoulders, he said softly “There... much more dignified now so you do not have to travel among the rafters.  Nor be scolded by the noblemen.  Come with me to my chambers;  I wish to tell you of my time away. ” Knowingly he understood taking the lead of the situation the shinobi boy would eventually open up to him.

  
_** That night young Lord Genichiro learned of Owls “Iron Code”. ** _

 

 

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

 

"You're leaving…"

  
  
"Not entirely.  Think of it as your time spent with Lady Butterfly, only confined together".  The taller teenager tried to reason, though similar, that was a terribly poor comparison.  No matter how he phased his words they were never going to change his friend's instinctive feedback.  Eyes like an overcast sky wandered up to the young Shinobi who sat above on the stonewall.  His brows were furrowed, a pursed frown on his thin lips.   
  
"I see…"  was all the boy murmured, eyes staring off in the distance.  The defiant tone was one the young lord knew to translate as being hurt.  Others would think him angry, but he was not selfish unlike most.  He was distressed because he knew this would be a defining moment.  A moment where they could recognize the path ahead of them. That path split down the middle...

  
  
   Genichiro sighed, scuffling a pebble on the ground.  With agile movement, the boy gripped the stone wall and with enough momentum crawled his way to the top.  He hoped none of the generals, or nobles were nearby.  That would be a definite slap on the wrist from General Oniwa. Sitting in front of the shorter boy, he waited until their eyes finally met and locked.  The boy's eyes showed a deep amber glow to the stream of sunlight that bounced off them.  They were gorgeous yet threatening all in a scruffy, yet charming package.   _A gift that came from the heart._ __

  
"Okāmi... I have a request before I take my leave.  There's one more thing to teach you that Master Owl and the Iron code seems not to practice… "    
  
   Wolf seemed to sit up a little, his attention piqued peculiarly.  It made the young lords cheeks flush a little to see despite his friend's stubbornness, he was still willing to listen.

  
  
"I want to execute a verbal contract... er like a promise to you!  It's something many warrior sects perform to maintain a solid structure for battle and empower our learning.  I…  well…  I wish you to become my wakashū when I return! "    
  
"... I will always abide by the lord's wishes until  subjected to my own. " Wolf said coolly before his head tilted slightly as he added, "what is …  a wakashū? " 

  
  
   Genichiro nibbled his lip thoughtfully, trying to remember how he acknowledged it.  The adults had a definite implication, however, he?  Not so much.   
  
"Well, I know it has to do with an unbreakable bond between warriors... and one must be older than the other or it doesn't work correctly.  But it's a promise to never leave your side and to be there until I can not any longer!  I am older, so that means I can request for that... **for us** I mean! "    
  
   He observed the small Shinobi as his eyes widen a little in surprise.  Genichiro anticipated Wolf's reaction, his palms damp as he clenched his kimono nervously.  The momentary silence between them felt like years.  Finally, a curt nod following a firm voice said,   
  
"Alright, I shall be your wakashū.  Now how do we seal this promise? "

  
  
"Hmmm…."  mused the lord, a finger tapping his lips in thought.  He recalled in the training and meetings what the elder Samurai did.  An idea sprung into his head, one that he recalled clearly. _  'That must be it! ' _

  
  
"I think I recall!  Close your eyes Okāmi. " 

  
  
   The boy hesitated a moment with a look of suspicion, but as his master's lord, he obeyed.  Eyes fluttering closed, the shinobi waited to complete their contract.  It made this heart thud a little bit knowing this promise would be held to each other even as the older adolescent left to complete his training.   
  
   Genichiro leaned forward, waving his hand in front of the other to make sure his eyes were in fact closed.  Taking deep quivering breaths, he leaned in and ever so gently pressed his lips against Wolf's own.  He startled when his friend slightly leaned forward, willingly.  Tearing away he gasped as his heart felt as fast as the wind in a storm.  Reddened cheeks and a look of wonderment, Genichiro beamed at Wolf.   
  
   The Shinobi himself acquired a delicate color to his own features, lips parted slightly.  He blinked a few times, uncertainty written all over his features.    
  
"Did we... did we seal our promise? "    
  
   Genichiro smiled, he could feel the fluttering in his chest and heart.  A breathy laugh escaped under his breath from the jolting feeling the small peck gave him.   
  


"Yes, Okāmi.   _Our promise is ours to keep_ — ours to hold until we can't anymore. " 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Geni I love you honey but... I do not think that is //exactly// how it works! but you're in the right direction! 
> 
>  
> 
> Next Chapter shall continue for in Wolf's point of view to see how the young & flourished become wilted and disjointed ;;  
> Chapter 5: Sakura

**Author's Note:**

> Capt 2: Muscle Memory 
> 
> Stay tuned!


End file.
